Jolted
by Eileen
Summary: Third in the Impulse Coffee series! Only this time, the drink in question isn't coffee.


JOLTED

**(Disclaimer: Impulse and Young Justice are property of DC Comics.)**

**(Author's Note: This is the third in my Impulse caffeine series, that started with "Beaned" and continued with "I am Coffolio". This time, however, the substance that sends Bart on a major caffeine rush isn't coffee.)**

"Loooook, Baart," Superboy drawled, waving a paper cup under the young speedster's nose. "Mochachino!"

Bart's eyes followed the cup longingly, back and forth . . .

"Cut it out," Robin snapped. "Don't tease him, Kon."

"I'm not teasing him!" the Teen of Steel protested. "I'm just smelling this nice, hot coffee . . . mmmm. Bet it tastes as good as it smells, huh, Bart?"

"Ah, fraguchino's for wimps," said Slobo. "Real men drink Jolt cola!" He took a swig from the bottle in his hand. "Want some, Bart?"

Bart whooshed over to the pint-sized Czarnian's side. "What'sthat? Isitcoffee?"

"Nah, it ain't coffee. Just as good, though. Here, have a sip."

But before Bart could get to the enticing bottle, Robin stepped between them. "No, Bart. You can't have it."

"Butit'snotcoffee! MaxsaidIcouldn'thave**coffee!** That'snotcoffee!"

"It's got caffeine in it. You know what caffeine does to you."

"Aw, I'llbegood!"

"That's what you said **last **time."

Last time Bart had gotten hold of a cup of coffee, he had gone berzerk, among other things harassing coffee shop owners, stealing cups right out of people's hands, and even disrupting a JLA meeting. That last had gotten him grounded for a month. 

"Lighten up, Bird-Boy," Slobo said. "Good's overrated anyway. Here, Bart, have some." He poured a bit of the drink into a happy-face mug.

"Mmmm . . ."

"Bart, no!"

"What?" Before anyone could stop him, Bart had downed as much caffeine as two and a half cups of coffee. "I only had a little bit!"

"But that stuff is full of caffeine, the same as coffee!" Robin started to tell him, but Bart was long gone. Once said caffeine had kicked in, he was on a rampage that made the previous one look like a nursery school outing.

"WHOO HOO!" The teen speedster raced around, writing graffiti on every available blank surface. Including, unfortunately, the Great Wall of China—ALL of it.

All around the world, shop owners, apartment complex supers, and ordinary citizens woke up to see IMPULSE ROCKS staring out at them . . .

"See what you've done?" Robin snapped at Slobo, who seemed unfazed by what he'd done. "You've given a loaded gun to an infant!"

"Nah, I just let Bart have a little of my Jolt."

"Same thing!"

"It's not like it's gonna kill him!"

"But it might **get **him killed," the Boy Wonder grumbled. "Let's go after him before he does—something Impulsive."

Impulse raced down the street in search of more of this wonderful Jolt cola. Why had nobody ever **told **him about this stuff? All the impact of coffee, without the risk of burning your tongue! "YAHOOOOO!"

He spotted a truck unloading just ahead and decided to help himself to a few cases of cola—while they were still in the truck! Despite the fact that he couldn't drive, Impulse snuck behind the wheel and stomped on the gas.

"Hey!" The truck driver looked up to find his vehicle disappearing into the distance. "Come back here!"

But Impulse was long gone by that time. He reached back, opened one of the cans, and chugged it down like water. "Aaaaah."

Unfortunately, this refreshment break made him miss a few little things on the road—like the intersection he was coming into, and the red light in his lane.

"Brake, brake . . . which one's the brake?" he said, frantically trying every pedal and lever he could reach, while behind him and to either side, a massive pileup was forming. Horns honked, and brakes squealed, and in some cases, metal crunched.

Fortunately nobody was hurt in the crash, but the highway was a mess for ten miles in either direction. 

"Ah, the heck with the brakes! I'll just vibrate the whole truck through the tunnel so I won't hit anyone!"

But vibrating a ten-ton truck was much harder than just vibrating his own body. He barely managed to get the vehicle under control before a red sports car passed through on the other end of the tunnel.

"I wonder if Grandpa can see me now," Impulse said, dodging traffic and scaring the snot out of two police officers in an unmarked patrol car, who barely had time to hit the brakes before they squashed the Fastest Teen Alive—or vice versa.

Whether Bart's grandpa, Barry Allen, could see him was a mystery, but Max Mercury certainly could. He saw the live feed on the six o'clock news, and instantly knew Bart had done it again. 

"I leave that kid alone for one second, and he goes and gets himself into more trouble than you can shake a stick at!"

"So go get him!" his daughter Helen exclaimed.

"I'm going." He just hoped he would get there before too much more damage was done.

The truck swerved all over the road, finally plowing into a telephone pole, which knocked out power for a twenty-block radius for most of the evening. Bart was okay—he had vibrated through the cab door just milliseconds before the collision—but the truck was totaled.

The rear door had rolled up, and Jolt cans were rolling all over the street. Bystanders rushed to grab them, pushing and shoving each other in the process. It looked like a riot was about to start . . . 

In the midst of all this chaos and confusion, Bart suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up. It was Max.

_Oh, grife! That's all I need right now! Max will KILL me!_

"Is this truck yours?" Max asked him.

"Uh . . . I can explain . . ."

"You'd better start explaining, then." Max folded his arms across his chest and waited to hear what Bart had to say.

"I wanted a cola?"

"No more cola for you. Not now, not ever." He grabbed Bart by the scruff of the neck and dragged him home.

"But it wasn't coffee! Ow! Max!"

"I'm beginning to think," Max said, "that I should just lock you in an escape-proof room for the rest of your life. Or else there might not **be **a rest of your life."

"Aw, Max!"

The story doesn't end there. As soon as Bart confessed to where he had first gotten the Jolt cola, Max made a special trip to YJ headquarters.

The kids looked up. They rarely had visits from their adult mentors, who pretty much left them alone. But they all knew what was up.

"Which one of you," Max asked calmly, "is Slo-Bo?"

"Who wants to know?" 

Max looked the skinny, pale kid over. He looked like a KISS wannabe. He came on like a tough guy, but he couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet. Not that Max was planning to take him on physically.

"Like Jolt Cola, do you?" he said.

The other kids, knowing what this was about, cleared out quickly.

"What's it to you, old man?" Slo-Bo demanded, when they had gone.

"Let's just say . . . you shared it with someone you shouldn't have," Max said, a hint of a smile on his face.

"A little caffeine and sugar never hurt anyone! Make a man out of him!"

"It almost made Bart a greasy spot on the freeway!" Max snapped, trying to resist the urge to grab and shake the boy. "What were you **thinking?"**

"Hey, don't blame me if Junior can't hold his drinks!" the pint-sized hellion retorted.

Max grabbed him by the collar. "Listen here, you little jerk, you can't tell me you don't have any responsibility for what happened! If you hadn't slipped Bart enough caffeine to get a dinosaur buzzed, he wouldn't have stolen a truck and gone haywire the way he did! You must have known something like this would happen . . ."

"I didn't!" Slo-Bo protested. "Nobody told me he couldn't have a Soder or two!"

"One or two might have been okay. He had an entire **truck full."**

"Not my idea!"

"No, but you should have thought about the consequences before you went ahead and gave him something you knew he couldn't handle." 

At that moment, Slo-Bo felt like disappearing into the floor.

Max got an idea. "How about you and I take a little walk and we'll discuss how you can make things right?"

Slo-Bo didn't like the sound of that.

THE  (burp!) END


End file.
